This is a story I wrote for the HetaChristmas Advent Lightning Challenge over at Livejournal. The fic was requested by shuriken7, and the prompt was holiday. I wasn't really sure what to do with this prompt, so I just let the story write itself.

THE CONTINUATION OF A BEAUTIFUL FRIENDSHIP

France let his eyes follow Prussia as he moved around the room, receiving smiles, pats to the back and countless mugs of mulled wine and perhaps something stronger. He was at the centre of attention, and based on the wide grin on his face, loving every minute of it. Everyone wanted to talk to him and congratulate him on his first free Christmas in over four decades.

The Berlin Wall had fallen only a little less than two months ago. The face of Europe had changed in one night, and right now there was a buzz of excitement everywhere. Some countries wanted to follow East Germany's example and break free of the chains that had held them prisoner for so many years. Other were watching from the sidelines and wondering if all of this wouldn't backfire and lead to bloodshed after all. The decades that everyone had spent living in fear of the threat from east weren't easily forgotten.

Unlike his government, France wasn't worried. He was old enough to foresee that the German reunification was inevitable. He didn't know what would come of it, but he was sure that Germany and Prussia would want to try.

He turned his eyes to his glass of wine when he noticed that Spain was looking at him. France wasn't usually one to hide the fact that he was resting his eyes on someone. He had every reason to look at Prussia. He was a gorgeous male specimen, and France if anyone had eyes for that. The problem was that, well, staring at Prussia made him feel so horribly uncomfortable, and yet he was still doing it.

"A lot of people showed up this year," Spain said as he came to sit by his side. "I think it's because we're in Rome, and everyone knows that my little Romano's cooking is delicious."

"Yes, though the atmosphere isn't as delightful as last year."

"Yeah, Seychelles knows how to throw a party."

And everyone was always wearing so little when they were gathered at her house. France sighed happily at the memory. He was right in the middle of thinking back to England's swimming trunks and how they had got lost when Spain's voice brought him back to reality.

"Have you already said hi to Prussia?"

France hummed and took a sip of his wine.

"Is that a yes or no?"

"No. I haven't had the time."

Spain looked at him in confusion. "But you're just sitting here. And he's right over there. Look, I think Finland is done talking to him. I talked with him earlier tonight, and he's in a great mood. Let's go!"

Spain stood up and caught France's hand, but France pulled it back and wouldn't budge.

"No, no, I don't think that's a good idea."

"What? Why?"

France made a vague gesture with his hand and then placed it on his temple, letting his head rest against it.

"I haven't talked to him yet," he muttered.

"I'm not following you. That's what I just said. That's exactly why we should go!"

"No, you don't get it. I mean, I haven't talked to him in years."

Spain frowned at him and sat down again. "Surely you at least congratulated him last month!"

"No," France said and downed the rest of his wine with one, undignified gulp.

"And why not? You're his friend –"

"You're his friend," France cut him off. "I can't imagine that he'd be happy to hear from me."

"Why not?"

France sighed and wondered if Spain had forgotten everything about European history or if he still hadn't grasped the fact that unlike him, others could hold a grudge.

"He has every reason to hate me. I pressed so hard for his dissolution that it's practically my fault he was separated from Germany and had to live with Russia for so long. Friends don't do that to each other."

"But that was years ago and right after a horrible war! Besides, I saw him get along with America just fine!"

"It's complicated," France said with another sigh and brought his glass to his lips, only to remember that he had already finished his wine. Oh, well. The night was young, and he had the feeling that he would be getting more refills than usual.

If he had felt utterly sorry and regretted what had happened, he would have already apologized to Prussia. The problem was that even now, years later when his anger at the war and everything that Germany and Prussia had done had faded, he knew that dissolving Prussia had been a sensible decision. Tainted by the thirst for vengeance, perhaps, but still sensible and justified. How could he face him when he thought that way? How could they ever be friends again?

"I was going to invite you both to my place for New Year's. You think you can sort it out in time for that? I already made an order for German beer. I don't drink that, and Romano is going to kill me if I leave it lying around the house."

France didn't think even a decade would be enough to sort out the knot of uncomfortable feelings inside him, but he didn't have the heart to tell that to Spain. Ever since the peaceful demonstrations had started in East Germany and the political situation had begun to look a little brighter, Spain had developed the habit of calling him every week to talk about the past, how much fun the three of them had had and how he was sure everything was going to be fine again soon.

It was a wonder Spain could be that optimistic after he had spent decades under a dictatorship of his own and knew what kind of wounds such times inflicted, but maybe that just proved that he was the stronger one out of the two of them.

"I'll see what I can do," he said dismissively and got up to get more wine.

France slept in the following morning. He liked doing it when he didn't have anyone over for the night – when he did have someone in his bed, he always got up early to prepare a fabulous breakfast for them – but even if he had had both England and Seychelles by his side, he would have still felt tempted to curl up under the covers this time.

He dragged himself out of bed a little before noon, spent an hour making himself presentable and enjoyed a nice breakfast at the café outside the hotel. He was finishing his cup of coffee when a waiter came to give him a message. It was from Spain.

Meet me by the fountain at Piazza Navona at 3, alright?

France frowned to himself. He was sure Spain had been planning to spend the day with Romano. Maybe something had happened. Romano's temper was probably acting up again, so maybe Spain was going to buy him something nice to cheer him up.

"He could use some love advice," he muttered and sent a quick reply, agreeing to be there.

Several hours later, France found himself surrounded by a crowd of happy people who had come to enjoy the Christmas market at Piazza Navona. He navigated his way through them towards the fountain, occasionally stopping to admire the items being sold at the stands. There were spices, home-made candy, wooden toys, traditional glass, everything one might expect at Christmas.

It seemed that he and Spain weren't the only people who had picked the fountain as the place to meet. France tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat and scanned the crowd, trying to spot a familiar head with brown hair. This being Italy, it was like throwing a grape into a bucket full of others and then trying to find it again.

But there was one head that instantly stood out and made France's breath get caught in his throat. He froze, and the people behind him bumped into his back, but he didn't care about it or hear their complaints. All he could do was stare at the pale face and hair that looked even more striking than usual because Prussia was wearing a black coat.

His first thought was to turn around and flee, but that was the exact moment when Prussia noticed him. His eyes widened in surprise and the hand that was about to shove candy into his mouth stopped and hovered before his face until its owner seemed to make up his mind about what to do. Prussia slipped his bag of candy into his pocket and started making his way through the crowd towards him.

Oh, dear, France thought in dismay.

"Hey, there, Frenchie! Fancy meeting you here," Prussia announced when he reached him.

"Yes, I'm quite surprised as well. I was expecting to find someone else here. So maybe I should –"

"You've got a date?"

"No, I was actually supposed to meet Spain here."

Prussia lifted his brows at him. "That's funny. So was I."

"What?"

And then it all suddenly became clear. France swore under his breath as he realised what Spain had done. He made a mental note to strangle him or at least have a very strict word with him about messing with other people's business the next time he saw him.

Prussia let out a humourless chuckle as the same realisation dawned on him. "Duped us, the fucker. When did he get so clever?"

"It's Romano's influence. Spain would never come up with something dastardly like this on his own," France said disdainfully.

"Points to him then, I guess."

Awkward silence fell between them. France probed his mind to come up with something – anything – to say, but his usually endless treasury of small talk was now empty. What could he say to a friend he had practically sentenced to death? No matter how well he could justify it to himself, it was still a betrayal.

Prussia dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out the small paper bag with the candy.

"You want some?" he asked and offered the bag to him.

France looked from the candy to Prussia, searching his face for any signs that would tell him what on Earth he was doing. The man had an awfully grim expression on his face. France didn't think it suited him at all. He was used to Prussia grinning in every situation – before battle, after battle, when drunk, when happy, when sad, and even right before his dissolution.

He found himself reaching for the bag and taking out a peppermint sweet. "Thank you."

"So, what do you want to do?" Prussia asked and threw a piece of candy into his mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"If that idiot Spain bothered to set us up like this, I guess the least we can do is try to make something out of it. Second, I just got here and won't leave before I've had something to eat. Third, you owe me a drink that's long overdue."

"Well, I suppose we can try," France said, feeling like he had swallowed a mouthful of vinegar.

Every café near the square was full, so they bought two mugs of mulled wine and decided to walk around, trying to avoid the largest crowd. Neither of them spoke for a long time, but finally Prussia decided to make the first move.

"It doesn't really feel like Christmas without snow."

"I can do without it. It gets into my hair and makes it messy. And the warmer the weather is, the less people wear."

"Yeah, I hear you had a blast at Seychelles' place last year. Wish I had been there. I was in St. Petersburg with the gang. Cold as fuck."

"Hmm."

More silence. They stopped to admire hand-made toys that an old man said had been crafted in his family for generations, starting long before the days of Italy's unificiation. France had no use for them, but he enjoyed looking at such things. He felt that the world around him had less and less heart each year.

They moved on, casually eyeing all the items that were on sale.

"You know, I've been waiting for you to call," Prussia finally said.

"I'm sorry. The past two months have been –"

"Oh, come on. Cut the crap. You could have called me decades ago if you wanted. It's not like my country was some kind of blocked fortress without any contact with the outside world. And if you didn't like the thought of someone listening in on you, you could have talked to me at world meetings."

That was all true, France knew. He could have contacted Prussia a long time ago, but he hadn't done so outside official circumstances. Partly because he was ashamed of himself and partly because he wasn't.

"I know. I didn't want to talk to you."

Prussia pursed his lips. "And why's that?"

"Oh, you know why!" France snapped, irritated by the accusing tone in Prussia's voice. "We can drink wine and pretend that we're just taking a look at the market all we want, but that doesn't erase everything that happened!"

"Exactly! That's why I thought you'd have the sense not to be a total ass and just fucking call me already!"

"To do what? What do you want? Should I get on my knees and apologize? Should I admit that I made a mistake and regret everything? That I did you wrong that can never be undone?" France gritted his teeth and brushed some of his hair behind his ear. He hated it how easily Prussia could get under his skin.

Then again, he had always been like that.

"I didn't say that. You did." Prussia popped the last piece of candy into his mouth and crumbled the paper bag into a tiny ball that he tossed into a garbage can. "Just a hello would have been a nice start. You know, to bring some light into my bleak, socialist life."

"Oh, please. You built your system yourself. Don't try to act like a martyr," France said.

"At least I'm not suffering from a hostile attitude problem. Just what the hell is it with you? You act like I've done something to you. It can't still be about the war because you're best buddies with West nowadays."

"It's not the war."

"Then what the fuck is it?"

France ran a hand through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh. He turned to look at the happy crowd around them, the sparkling Christmas lights and the colourful decorations at every corner. It all brought a sour taste to his mouth.

"I'm angry," he finally spat out.

"At who? Me?"

"No."

"Yourself?"

"No. At this godforsaken world, I suppose."

"Why? What did it ever do to you?"

France turned his attention back to Prussia, loathing the sight of his curious face but unable to look away.

"Did Russia hit you over the head with his pipe one too many times? How can you of all people ask me that question?" he asked. Before Prussia had the time to answer, he continued, "We used to spend long nights in taverns all over Europe. We spent holidays in Spain. Once we got railroads, you used to come over to Paris all the time. We went to cabarets in Berlin. Even when we were on opposite sides of a war, we were still friends. Because it was politics and not personal. It was our bosses, not us."

Prussia pursed his lips in thought, but he didn't say a word, no doubt sensing that France wasn't finished yet.

"But the last war was too much. What you and your brother did was too horrible. That made it personal. I felt so satisfied after the war and your loss. I wanted nothing more than for you to suffer." France let out a chuckle. "I didn't know then just how well my wish would be fulfilled."

"I'm not sure I'm following you here, Francy-pants. Just why are you angry again?"

"Because it had to happen! It was your insane boss who started the war. If it had been just you or Germany, it wouldn't have happened. I hate it that we have to do what our people tell us and put our feelings aside. I don't want to go to war with my friends or people I love just because someone tells me to," France said, loathing how frustrated and tired his voice sounded.

"But that's how it goes."

"Yes, you're right. When it comes to politics, to war, to justice, your dissolution was the right thing to do. If I could travel back in time, I would still vote for it because it would be my responsibility as a nation. And I hate it that I have to live with that because it's not what I wanted to do as a person. That's why I'm angry," France finished. He suddenly felt cold despite the fact that winter in Rome was warmer than what he was used to. He wished his coat were thicker, but he wasn't sure it would have helped at all.

Prussia was quiet for a long time. "You're just fucking unbelievable," he then said. "Do you think that's news to me? That I'm some idiot who doesn't know what it means to be a nation? I've been around since the Middle Ages, you ass!"

"Oh, really?" France challenged. "So when you stood before the council and screamed at me that you were going to tear my lungs out and stuff them up my ass, it was just my imagination?"

Prussia crossed his arms on his chest and snorted. "Well, I was angry, too. And it's far more satisfying to be angry at a person than the whole world. It's easier to work out. Maybe that's why I'm not spewing out some stupid existential angst about what it means to be a nation and boo-hoo, blah blah. But then again, you Frenchies were always pretentious like that, so maybe it's just you."

"Are you trying to tell me that you bear no grudge at all?"

"No way. I'm still angry. Not because of something that happened over forty year ago but because you're an asshole who never called me. And I mean that as a person and not a nation."

"If that's how you felt, you could have called me instead," France pointed out.

Prussia kicked at the ground at his feet. "Yeah, but it's not always easy being as awesome as I am. It kind of makes me a little too proud for my own good sometimes."

"It makes you an ass."

"Well, right back at you. I guess it's a good thing we both have a thing for asses."

France snorted. "That is crudest peace offering I've ever heard."

"Take it or leave it. The awesome Prussia doesn't propose peace twice. The only other option is war."

"I've had enough of that. I suppose I have no choice but to accept."

"Yeah, because you Frenchies suck at war."

"Says the nation who lost the last time we faced each other."

"You got occupied fair and square and were totally useless. It was America and Russia who did all the work!"

"That's not true, and you know it!"

"Yeah, right. Keep telling that to yourself."

France rolled his eyes and decided that he wasn't going to continue bickering over such old things. He had the feeling that the ice between him and Prussia had thawed a little, and he very much wanted to keep it that way. He had missed him and their friendship over the years. He had just grown so resigned to the fact that it was over and done with that he hadn't even realised how much he wanted it back.

"Will you let me buy you dinner?" he asked.

"Wow, now that's manipulative. You know I can't say no to free food."

"Oh, cut it out. There's only so much of your attitude that I can take."

Prussia chuckled. "From my perspective, that just means that I have to expose you to as much of my awesomeness as possible. You've been deprived of it for years, so it's time to make you used to it again."

"Lord, what have I got myself into?" France muttered under his breath, but he couldn't help but smile as they began to wade through the crowd and the lights.